


For Sugar

by Claminosity



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Inkheart (2008), Tintenwelt-Trilogie | Inkheart Trilogy - Cornelia Funke
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:23:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claminosity/pseuds/Claminosity
Summary: A tiny ficlet in which Dustfinger meets Ten.





	For Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal in 2011 for my friend Sugar's birthday.

His enraptured audience had already parted with their change and scattered around the little marketplace, but someone, Dustfinger heard, went on applauding. He turned around to see a tall, lean man in a long, brown coat and a pinstripe suit standing next to the fountain, clapping his hands and grinning like a maniac.  
  
“Bravo! That was brilliant, that was! Best fire juggling I've ever seen. Although, I did meet this girl once who could keep twenty rings in the air all at once, but then she did possess a few more...limbs,” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
“Anyway, I couldn't help but notice your friend. Clever little thing, aren't you?”  
  
The man had crouched down a couple of feet from where Gwin was curled up inside the coin hat. He eyed the small horns on the marten's head, curious but not surprised, as if meeting horned martens were an everyday occurrence to him.  
  
“I'd be careful if I were you. Gwin doesn't often take to strangers,” Dustfinger said.  
  
“Oh, I wasn't about to poke him or anything, I do enjoy having ten fingers. If you'll just allow me to...” He fished for something inside his jacket and drew out what looked like a pocket-sized torch. “...check something.”  
  
Before Dustfinger could protest, the man had lit up the device and aimed the softly whirring thing at Gwin's head.   
  
“Y-yup. One hundred percent organic, biologically unaltered horned marten. That _is_ amazing.” He smiled and looked up at Dustfinger, shoving the device back inside his coat.  
  
“Yes, he comes from...a rare breed,” Dustfinger muttered. The stranger was beginning to seem a little too curious for his liking. Gwin didn't seem to mind, but was now carefully sniffing at the stranger's hand.  
  
The man was apparently about to ask another intrusive question, when he spotted a blonde girl waving frantically at him on the other side of the marketplace. She shouted something as she gesticulated at the alley behind her, but Dustfinger could only make out the words “Doctor” and “the robots.”  
  
“Well, must be off! It's been a pleasure.” The stranger hurriedly got up and patted dust off his knees.  
  
“Oh, and... _Good luck_ ,” he added, an odd look flashing on his face. Then he was gone in a flurry of brown coattails and red tennis shoes.   
  
“I wonder which story he came from?” Dustfinger thought as he picked up his rucksack, slung it over his shoulder and whistled for Gwin. The marten jumped out of the hat, climbed up Dustfinger's sleeve and sank his little claws into the worn collar of his coat.


End file.
